


Confessions

by caalypso



Category: Sleepy Hollow (1999)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caalypso/pseuds/caalypso
Summary: Katrina notices Ichabod's nasty habit of never finishing his dinner and, on their somewhat awkward wedding night, decides to pursue the issue after she gets a glimpse of how sickly he really looks.





	Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> There is a blatant lack of Ichabod/Katrina stories from Tim Burton's "Sleepy Hollow" so I wrote my own. 
> 
> Apologies for the errors; I wrote this on my phone all in one go.

Katrina hadn't seen it when they were in Sleepy Hollow, but now that she lived with Ichabod in his small bachelor flat in New York, she couldn't help but notice it. 

She began to realize when he came home from an investigation once, pale as the dead and fragile as paper. Katrina had sat Ichabod down on the divan by the foyer and combed her fingers through his hair until he spoke, shuddering with disgust. 

"There was  _so much blood,_ Katrina." Ichabod had whispered into her honey hair. "And to think it had all once been inside a man, murdered in cold blood for money." 

She had feared he would retch then, so she took his trembling hands into hers and kissed each digit. Ichabod slowly calmed at her touch and soon, a little color returned to his pale, sharp cheeks. He was still trembling however, so Katrina suggested they start dinner early. Jonathan voiced his eager agreement before Ichabod could even open his mouth, and Katrina gladly brought dinner into the small parlor so they could eat in front of the fire. 

For a while, the clicking of utensils and the crackling of the wood was all that could be heard. The peace was broken by Ichabod abruptly rising, his half-finished dinner clutched in his hands.

"I'm going to go upstairs to work on the case." He announced with only a slight tremor in his voice. Young Masbath was used to Ichabod's isolation, so he just nodded and smiled fleetingly at him. Katrina, however, noticed her fiancé's half-eaten dinner and suddenly had a sinking suspicion that the case was just an excuse. This was not the first time he had done this, and it would not be the last. 

Once Katrina and Ichabod were wed, Katrina moved out of the guest room she'd been sleeping in and into her new husband's. That night, when she announced that she was going to return to bed, the teacup in Ichabod's hand suddenly started to shake so violently, scalding liquid splashed over the side. He once again abandoned the dinner he'd been picking at and managed to stammer a quick, "I'll join you shortly." before blushing to the roots of his hair and rushing off, leaving his supper behind. Katrina shook her head and gently guided Jonathan to bed, kissing his forehead and tucking him in. He had taken to calling her  _mother_ sometimes, which thrilled her to no end. Jonathan had tried calling Ichabod _father_ , but Crane had been so shocked he nearly fainted.

After Young Masbath was asleep and Katrina dressed in her nightgown, the new Mrs. Crane climbed the thin staircase to Ichabod's cramped attic laboratory. The door was shut, as usual, and she knocked softly on the faded wood. Ichabod appeared in the doorway soon after, slightly surprised. 

"Katrina, my love, I thought you'd be in bed." He said, looking at her with such tenderness that she thought she might melt. However, there was an underlying sense of nervousness and maybe even fear in his rigid posture. It  _was_ their wedding night after all, but Katrina couldn't possibly understand what he was so terrified of. She would never make him do anything like _that_ if he didn't want to, and besides, there was nothing to fear! It was only her, after all. Instead of reminding him of what may or may night occur, she just smiled and said, "I thought I might check on you first. You've been working yourself half to death with this latest case." 

Ichabod ran a hand through his dark hair, his equally dark eyes flickering from her face to the wall behind her. "I'm sorry I haven't been very social with you and Jonathan lately." He murmured weakly. Katrina's eyes widened a fraction; she hadn't meant to guilt him. 

"Oh Ichabod, you've been wondedful." She reassured him, cupping his face in her hands. "It's just that you've looked so tired lately... maybe you should come to bed now?"

Ichabod somehow paled more than usual, stammering something about his train of thought. Personally, Katrina believed it had left the station, derailed and crashed the moment she'd opened the door, but she merely shook her head. 

"Darling, you don't have to be nervous. It's just me, your _wife_." Katrina said warmly. Ichabod gave her a helpless look and sputtered a bit more, his chocolate eyes widened like a frightened animal. 

"I'm not nervous." He blurted, wringing his hands. "It's just that I... I don't want to make you uncomfortable, my love. I can sleep on the armchair if you'd like..."

"Uncomfortable?" Katrina echoed, starting to finally understand. "Nonsense; you make me the most comfortable woman in the world. Now please, come to bed?"

She leans up to kiss him softly, and finally Ichabod relents. He lets her come into his lab as he closes his ledger, putting his equipment away. When he finished, Katrina took his hand daintily and all but floated downstairs beside him. He felt clumsy and awkward compared to her, a flush dusting across his pale cheeks in embarrassment. 

A few minutes later, Katrina sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as Ichabod attempted to unbutton his frock coat. His hands were shaking terribly however, so much so that Katrina stood and silently undid them for him. Before Ichabod could say anything, she was working on his cravat, pulling the material away from his pale neck. He could barely breathe as his wife divested him of his outer garments, a sudden fear finally giving him the ability to back away as she reached for the buttons of his white shirt, the only barrier between her and his skin. 

"K-Katrina," He stammered, shaking like a leaf all over again. "I c-can do this m-myself, th-thank you." 

Ichabod grabbed his nightclothes and fled to the powder room, closing the door behind him. After much longer than it normally tok him to change, he finally emerged, finding Katrina sitting on the bed once again. A peculiar expression had settled over her face and Ichabod could practically feel his heart ache for her. She was so perfect, and he...

When he gingerly sat on the bed beside her, Katrina startled Ichabod by embracing him,  _really_ feeling every angle of his torso. She rested her head against his chest and circled her arms as tight as they could go without hurting him, feeling as his breath hitched. 

But oh, was worse than she had thought. 

Ichabod was so very thin. She could feel it through the relatively thin cloth of his nightclothes; feel it as his heart skittered in his chest. She looked up at his eyes and saw truly how  _exhausted_ he looked. Katrina's eyes suddenly filled with tears as she realized she'd been brushing this off for so long. 

She wasn't the only one hurting, which became apparent when Ichabod's chest started to heave beneath her. She felt him bury his face in her hair like he so often did for comfort, then heard the soft sobs that wracked his frame. Determined to be strong for him, Katrina blinked away her own tears and held her husband tighter, rubbing his back and combing her fingers through his hair comfortingly. 

"Oh Ichabod..." Was all she could murmur, eliciting more pained, muffled cries from the man in her arms. Katrina merely continued to stroke his hair, something her mother used to do for her as a child. Her  _real_ mother. 

"Katrina, I-I..." Ichabod tried to speak, his voice breathy and pinched and choked and _beautiful_. "I'm so sorry... I'll n-never be enough for you, my P-Pickety Witch. I'm weak, cowardly, and I can't even eat properly. Why in the world would you marry a pathetic man like me?"

"Don't talk about the man I love like that." Katrina scolded gently. "What is bravery truly; a man who isn't afraid, or a man who isn't afraid but does it anyway?"

Her gentle ministrations and soft words finally started to calm Ichabod, who was suddenly feeling quite exhausted. He didn't pull away from her as he laid down on the mattress, half dragging her with him. Katrina, ever the motherly one, tucked them both into bed before extinguishing the oil lamp, plunging the room into semi-darkness. She could still make out Ichabod's face and his dark, haunted eyes, and he could still make out hers. 

"I'm not what you deserve." Her husband whispered softly. "If it wasn't for Brom's death, I'd never have a chance at you. I'm not like him at all..."

Katrina almost couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Ichabod, I was never going to marry Brom." She placed her palms against Ichabod's chest and felt the fluttering of his heart, much softer than the frantic pounding of before. "Brom was loud, insensitive, boorish and narcissistic. Yes, you are nothing like him, and I am thankful for that. You are everything I could have ever wanted and more."

She cupped his face in her hands again and kissed him sweetly, trying to convey all of her love. "You are a brave, smart, righteous and handsome man, Ichabod. I am the most fortunate woman in the world, not the least." 

Ichabod smiled weakly at her then, pulling Katrina closer into his embrace. "And I am the most fortunate man." He murmured, resting his head on top of hers. "I never thought that there would ever be a Mrs. Crane, nevermind such a lovely one." 

"With words like that, I am surprised." Katrina chuckled softly. "But please, rest now, my dear. Tomorrow, we'll see what we can do about you. My poor darling..."

Ichabod's smile widened ever so slightly, then faded as he fell into a deep, undisturbed slumber, Katrina safe and warm beside him. 


End file.
